Fall of the Night, Rise of the Hood
by LionLighted
Summary: After being involved in an accident, Dick stubbornly decides that he can manage just fine on his own. However, an unlikely ally disagrees...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This hopefully my first multi-chapter fic! Basically the story goes that Nightwing is injured and stubbornly decides he can fend perfectly well for himself. However, the second oldest bat-brother disagrees and eventually the two just might end up bonding ;P **

**Disclaimer- as usual I don't own DC or any of it's characters. **

* * *

Blüdhaven was quiet, unusually so. And for the city's protector, this was either a refreshing change or a bad omen for things to come.

But Nightwing wasn't the Bat, nor was he one to look a gift horse in the mouth so while the calm lasted, he would enjoy it. So the young man took a rare moment to breath in the city and think of another city slightly further afield. He could not help but wonder what mayhem was probably reigning in Gotham, a city where peace never seemed to settle.

He thought of Bruce, Tim and Damien and how long it had been since he'd seen them last. It had been two months at least. Of course he'd spoken to them via call and text but even then it had been over a month since he last swapped words with his father. It wasn't for his lack of trying. He'd sent several small texts daily. A simple "Hello" and "How are you" or "Are you alive?"

He presumed Bruce's inability to reply stemmed from a new case he was obsessing over. He thought of Babs and the conversation they'd had over the phone just the other day, confirming that Bruce was healthy and well and that yes, he was knee deep in a new case involving the Joker- which he had assured her he needed no help in, but of course. They'd also talked about Damien and how he was morphing more and more into his father, physically at least, with each passing day.

Dick remained on patrol for another hour before returning home and casting the Nightwing facade aside. The night was still young and so he would head out like a normal civilian for once. He left his apartment with nowhere in particular in mind but Blüdhaven was not short of night-time hotspots so he would go wherever the wind took him.

The city was not as breathtaking from the ground as it was from a height, still the bustle and chatter of evening goers, and being able to be part of it, was energizing. He could barely feel the early winter chill that bit at the bare of his neck, as the buzz warmed him down to his toes.

And so as the night ebbed on and he eventually settled in an Irish pub not far from his apartment, hours ticked by as so did several pints and attractive women. No takers however and sometime past twelve that night, he found himself wandering home alone. In good spirits however, it was the first night in a long time where he'd been able to laugh and enjoy himself, without a near death crisis to spring up in front of him, or disrupt his night out through the evening room.

But not only was he alone, he was rather tipsy. And though maybe in hindsight he'd taken on one pint to many, it was hardly something he was worried about at present. What's a sore head in the morning? He chuckled.

Sadly, a sore head would be the least of his problems.

It all started out innocently enough. A group of five women, dressed in pink, glitz and feathers called out to him, on a hen night that unlike Dick, had no intentions of retiring just yet. They cheered, hollered and giggled at the handsome young man who crossed their path, winking and blowing kisses as he stopped to let them by. The streets were narrower in these parts, as so were the pavements.

They teetered onwards, only a few peering back for a second glance. Dick continued to watch them, grinning like an idiot as Damien would say, as he continued to walk away in the opposite direction.

He really should have been watching where he was going instead.

The laughter of the women would soon cut short and turn to shrill cries of shock and horror. A car horn would blare, however futile. Brakes would wail and worst of all, there would be a bone shattering thud. Followed by the crisp shattering of glass with a second, more muted thud, to top off the panic.

And all after Dick stepped out blindly into the wake of two, dazzling lights.

The twenty three year old awoke not the next morning, but sometime in the afternoon. He could tell by the violet light protruding through the venetian blinds of the ward.

The first thing he became aware of was his own discomfort. Despite the fact he was well cushioned and caringly propped in the bed, he was sore all over. His head was fuzzy, he was able to identify where he was, a hospital of course. What other establishment was decorated in wall to wall white? Also the scent of disinfectant was thick in the air.

But a hospital where? And why? How?

From his haze a sudden thought gripped him and filled him with worry. Had he been injured on the job? As Nightwing? If so a public hospital was not the place to be.

Despite the white hot agony that surged through him, he began to squirm on the bed, using all means necessary to get a better view and grasp of his environment and situation.

But a nurse had already rushed to his side in an attempt to calm him. "Mr. Grayson", she cooed softly. "Please sir, you're alright. Just relax..."

Mr. Grayson, he reasoned, how does she know my name? It was better than being referred to as Mr. Nightwing anyway. But he was still far too cautious, so he wouldn't say anything just yet.

"Mr. Grayson", continued the nurse now that he'd stopped struggling at least. "You were in an accident, you have to stay still or risk hurting yourself further".

"What...what accident?" He blurted out, his voice dry and cracked.

"You were hit by a car. You were drunk at the time sir." She watched his paling colour carefully, "but you're safe no, so just relax".

Car. Drunk, He ran the words over in his head over and over, hoping they would spark a memory. It didn't but it did calms his fears somewhat. He certainly wouldn't be drunk or anyway intoxicated under control, so he must have been hit in civilian dress.

"Where am I?" He croaked after a moment.

"Blüdhaven General", she answered promptly. "I'm Nurse Taylor by the way. Now I'm going to go alert your doctor that you're awake. I'll be back in a moment".

Fleetingly placing an assuring hand on his forearm, she then turned and hurried away.

She held true to her promise and did return with a doctor, known as Doctor Smith, to inform him of his condition. In all fairness to the doctor, he skipped all the unnecessary medical mumbo jumbo. Basically, Dick had impacted with a taxi, resulting in three broken ribs, two cracked ribs, a bruised kidney and fractured hip. A "femoral head fracture", the doctor had first summarized before going on to explain how it was an injury caused by high trauma and that not uncommon to the fracture, he had also dislocated his hip. The worst of his injuries were localized to his left side, where he'd received the main brunt of the car. He was now however, as the doctor put it, back in one piece.

"But you'll need a lot of rest in order to recuperate, we're going to hold onto you for at least another day or so, but after that...do you live alone sir?"

Dick thought for a moment. He was alone in Blüdhaven but he did have his family in Gotham. All those people he'd thought of earlier and missed. But something else from his foggy memory resurfaced also. Bruce was busy with a case. And Dick knew exactly what Bruce was like in the high point of his obsession. He would be highly strung, grumpy and sharp tongued and in the very middle of it would sit Dick, useless as far as the Batman was concerned due to his injury. He would probably pawn his injured eldest off on Alfred, their long suffering Butler. And in Dick's opinion, he was far too old to have poor Alfred having to look after him and help him about.

"Ugh...yeah, I live alone".

The doctor's brow furrowed. "That makes things a little tricky".

Dick raised his eyebrows and waited for the Doctor to explain. "Because of your hip and ribs, it would be the most comfortable for you to remain wheelchair bound until you recover- it would be less stressful on you. But obviously, wheelchairs can be debilitating to get around in, especially if you're on your own. Is there nobody you can stay with at least?"

Again he was torn. Barbra came to mind but once again he believed it was not her job to have to look after him.

"I'm sure I'll be able to get around", he answered confidently, with one of his most charming smiles attached.

The doctor remained dubious but merely shrugged and wished him the best before moving on to his other patients.

Dick settled himself, his mind already preoccupied, problem solving as to how he would manage over the next few weeks. You'll figure something out, he supposed. After all this wasn't the first time he'd had to fend for himself while injured. Never had been so restricted however due to his injuries but again, he would try to remain optimistic.

Over the next few hours, he drifted in and out of sleep and before he knew it, it was the next day. Nurse Taylor pressed again whether or not he had a place to stay. He deflected her efforts by asking about where his mobile phone could have gotten to. Apparently it had miraculously survived the impact. And she returned it to him, shortly thereafter. The screen was cracked but other than that it worked fine. After switching the phone back on, astounded by its resilience, he then was overwhelmed by a feeling of dread.

According to the alert before him, he had three missed calls from Bruce. Surely he could know what was going on. It's not like he keeps tabs on me twenty four seven, ranted Dick, alright maybe he does but...

Taking in a deep breath, he went about calling the number back. It rang twice before the deep, low voice of Bruce echoed down the line. "Dick", he declared, yet it was impossible to tell how he felt about the owner of the name at this moment, his tone certainly revealed nothing.

"Bruce", the ex Robin replied, equally as vague. He tentatively awaited what his father and mentor would say next.

He need not wait long.

"We need to talk..."

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**DUN DUN DUN...**

**With luck there'll be more to come...**

**Would Love Some feedback!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: A HUGE thank you to anybody who reviewed! It was fantastic to get a little feedback! **

* * *

"We need to talk..."

The words set the young man's heart crossways. How could Bruce possibly know he was in hospital? World's greatest detective, flashed in giant, patronizing neon before his eyes but still, all did not add up.

Yes, Bruce was his next of kin and should rightly be his emergency contact.

_Should_ being the pivotal word in that statement.

He had recently removed Bruce's name from the emergency contact slot. It now remained blank. The man himself was unaware and Dick knew that though the subject would inevitably arise one day. He would happily delay such a chat. Not because he did not have an argument to give, if he didn't what need would there be to do something so drastic?

His point was simple. Bruce was possessive, was so out of good will but it was that same suffocating behaviour which drove him out of Gotham to begin with. Now, whenever a tough patrol landed him in A&E and a call went out to Bruce, the both the Bat's physical and metaphorical grip would drag him back.

He'd made the call in a flush of anger, not with such much needed foresight.

"Mmhmm..." Dick mused softly, waiting on bated breath.

Bruce spoke to him in brief, clipped tones. "I know for a fact that a notorious hustler known as Jack Flash is hiding out in Blüdhaven. He's hiding from the Joker and his goons-I won't go into it but he has something of...a certain wealth to the Joker. It's important I get to him before anyone else does-"

Dick's relief was tangible. His whole body relaxed and he released that tense, laboured breath in relief. It came out as a sigh, one which caused the billionaire to pause.

"What?"

"Oh", Dick replied quickly, "nothing. Go on. I'm just stuck in traffic".

Bruce passed no further regards and continued to explain the necessity of this Jack Flash to his case. Whenever Dick questioned the case itself however, he would be promptly deterred.

And there lay the reason for Dick's decision.

He was sick and tired of Bruce knowing every detail which went on in his life and yet he only got glimpses of his adoptive father's in return.

"So?" The gruff voice commanded. "What have you heard?"

Dick rubbed his opposite temple as he answered down the phone. "Honestly, this is the first I've ever heard of "Jack"?" As he had for their entire conversation, any question's he asked were fairly non-place. After all he wasn't within the secure confines of his car. He was in a public place with potentially prying ears.

"Jack about Jack", he added with a small smirk, though Bruce did not care for his humour. "Well get on it, I can't afford to leave Gotham right now".

Dick began to question why but Bruce had already hung up.

He really must be stressed out with this case, Dick thought sombrely.

He tossed the phone down onto his lap and felt a wave of exhaustion overcome him. Still mulling over Bruce's mood, he sank into the comfort of sleep.

* * *

He left Blüdhaven General the next day with a new conspiracy in mind.

Hospitals were designed to make you sleep. The fluffy pillows, unparalleled stuffiness, all they were short of was handing him a glass of warm milk.

Didn't work though, he thought smugly as he wheeled himself rather haphazardly across the hospital courtyard. He'd made his great escape and the cool air of day had rid him of his haze.

Cautiously he experimented with steering the wheelchair. He'd received a crash course in how to earlier, unneeded really, there had been occasion where he'd stolen Barbra's. But there was a reason she would laugh from the couch when tried to do so because he'd crash within the first minute.

Just take it slow, Dick reminded himself.

He managed to find his way back to his apartment easily enough. He got a taxi from the hospital and finally made us of the building's elevator system. He was, pardon the pun, on a roll as he reached his front door safe and sound.

He quickly realised however that getting to his apartment really was the easy part. Making his way about the apartment was another story.

First of all, it required better steering. Second it meant little was at perfect arms reach. Of course he could push himself up and out of the chair if needs be to reach for the coffee tin or make his way to and fro from the bathroom or his bedroom.

The sheer pain and complexity of being out of the chair for more than a minute or two however had him near to collapse. So despite how frustrating he was finding the confines placed on him, he could not say it was unneeded.

He received another call from Bruce, waffling away at how he was still tracking down leads to do with the aloof Jack Flash. Bruce was displeased at the lack of progress his eldest was making but granted him another day.

How about another week at least, Dick thought tiredly. It would take him that length of time just to wrap his head around changing in and out of his clothes. And how would he manage to shower? Get groceries? These were his greatest concerns. Not the mission, not the Joker's latest go-to man.

He could not remember falling asleep, however he awoke to crick in his neck and realised he had done so in front of the television. A late night classic horror movie marathon, if he remembered correctly.

He'd compared many of the monsters, such as the Creature from the Black Lagoon, to some of Gotham's baddies, primarily Killer Croc.

He couldn't help but wonder that if met with the creature, would be able to take him? In a sudden burst of confidence since been struck by the car, he believed that yes, he could easily send the creature crying all the way home to Aquaman. He presumed, after all, that he, she, whatever it was, had to be a distant cousin of the Atlantean.

He could not daydream for long however. The real world called sharply and in the form of his growling stomach, that and an empty fridge.

It was time to face the unknown.

* * *

He managed to throw himself under the shower for a few minutes and carefully slip into a fresh set of clothes. Progress was slow but eventually, and he did so with quite the feeling of accomplishment, he made his way through the automatic doors of the nearest supermarket. It was a Polish food store located just around the corner from his building and though he would not be able to name half of what he would throw into his basket, perched precariously on his lap, all he needed to know was that it was edible. It certainly wasn't worth wheeling his way through the crowded streets for another fifteen minutes for another store.

The aisles were exceptionally narrow and though the wheel chair did fit, it took a little extra focus not to go careering into a shelf of tinned goods. He could hear another customer bustling impatiently behind him so he wheeled forward with a little extra vigour. The end of the aisle meant a sharp turn for him. He struggled twice to get in line before the snarky voice piped up from behind hurriedly. "Come on buddy, shift your ass already!"

His words had the desired effect. They brought Dick to a complete pause entirely. He craned his neck back and around hesitantly, his eyes widening.

"Jason?"

Whatever shock he felt was being equally reflected in his younger brothers. "Dick?" He exclaimed, only taking a short moment to look over his shoulder before shooting back to Dick. "What the hell-"

Again he checked over his shoulder and roughly grabbing the handles of the chair, he spun his older brother around to face him, sparing him no mercy for the injured apparently as he almost knocked Dick from the chair in the process. "Jeez Jason, take it easy", he barked.

Jason still stared at him with mouth agape, "is this...permanent?" He ventured lowly with his eyes narrowed and Dick could not tell if was cursing the "golden child's" own stupidity or the anger was directed elsewhere.

"No", Dick replied firmly, "and the sooner I can get out of it, the better!"

At this, Jason visibly relaxed but for the third time, he found the scene behind him utterly drawing.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Dick questioned suspiciously and Jason merely flashed him a large grin.

"What have you done?"

"Oh take a chill pill, Goldie", Jason steered Dick in a new direction, just as reckless with its passenger as he'd been before and quickly darted towards the back exit.

"What did you do?" Dick repeated. Gripping onto the armrest for dear life.

They met the alleyway with a clatter and it was then Jason let go of one of the handles to reach into his pocket and dangle packet of cigarettes in front of the older man's face. He also padded his pockets, informing of more stolen goods. "It's been a rough week", he justified his actions, "I thought I'd treat myself".

"At the owner's expense?"

Jason said nothing, merely letting out a throaty chuckle as he suddenly paused, jerking the chair to an abrupt halt. Was he purposely trying to unseat Dick? Maybe so, however the wince he caught, which marred acrobats face, erased the idea from his mind completely.

"I'm surprised the old man isn't making you rest your old bones back at the manor", sniggered Jason, "where are the readily fluffed pillows for the Golden boy?"

"Listen Jason", Dick scowled, "Bruce doesn't know, so don't go running back to him about this, alright?"

Jason cackled. "Who do you think I am? The replacement? When have I ever gone running to Daddybats?"

Dick's eyes were cool with resolve and he parted with Jason a short nod. He then turned the chair around and began in the opposite direction. However Jason swiftly blocked his exit.

"Whoa, so down there Hot-Wheels", he cautioned the first Robin and gestured towards infamous chair. "Explain this to me".

"There's nothing to explain", Dick snapped, "it was just a dumb mistake, I'm fine, alright?"

"I never asked", Jason replied curtly. "And if you ask me, it sounds like a pretty costly mistake too. So who was it?"

"It wasn't a who".

"What does that suppose to mean?" Jason exclaimed.

"Look Jason, I don't..." Dick tried to wheel around him but he did not get far, not with Jason's grip squarely on the eldest's forearm.

The man's head cocked slightly to the side curiously. "Tell me what's got you all in a twist, Dickiebird", he murmured.

Dick wasn't going anywhere until he relented. "It's Bruce..."

"Surprise, Surprise", chided Jason.

"Shut up", hissed Dick before composing himself. "He wants me to work a case for him and obviously I can't. So as nice as this little chit-chat is, I have just a few other things on my mind".

"Come clean?"

"I can't do that", Dick divulged but refused to admit to anymore when Jason questioned why.

Jason leant against the adjacent mood, reaching for his pocket for a cigarette he then lit and enjoyed a long drag of. "Well then, it's a shame you don't have another, non bat-brainwashed brother to do a little bidding for you".

Dick leaned back into his chair, almost business like in stature. His eye brows rose, "yeah, a true tragedy...because I could really use somebody like that right now..."

"Well aren't you lucky then Cinderella. You got yourself a fairy god mother", he sauntered over to tap the nearest wheel with his toe. "And a perdy carriage".

* * *

**That's all for now, but there is more to come! :D**

**Once again a huge thank you for anyone who has enjoyed this so far and decided to follow it! Like last time, feedback would be most welcomed! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This one took a little longer because I really had to decide where I wanted to take this story. Any how, thank you to everyone who reviewed! Faved or followed! It's means so much to me :D **

* * *

"So what next?" The voice of Jason Todd awoke him from his dazed reverie and stifling a yawn, the eldest boy of the Bat family replied.

"The Bats will be around shortly, so make sure Jack isn't going anywhere but also make yourself scarce", Dick warned lowly.

"Aww, you think Brucie doesn't trust me with a lousy, second rate thug?"

"No, but he'll wonder why it's you, not me, tying him in knots". Dick spoke from the comfort of his living room. Jason didn't share in the privilege.

It was a cool night on the docklands of Blüdhaven. The wind that blew across the water and into the city was strong but not constant. It came in sudden, spontaneous bouts. And when it did, it was bitter. A reminder that winter was fast approaching.

"Speaking of knots, what do you want?" Without waiting for an answer, Jason went about naming a hundred different types of knots. Some of which Dick recognised, others which had to be something only Jason's imagination could sprout. The "forget-me-knot?" really?

Dick, his temples pounding from stress and exhaustion, cut across him sharply. "Something that will hold him, Jason", he then softened his tone, "all I want is something that will hold him until Batman gets there".

The Red Hood shook the limp figure in his grasp experimentally. The self proclaimed Jack Flash flopped forward like a rag doll, only balding and covered in tattoos from what skin was exposed. "Personally, I don't think he'll be going anywhere for at least an hour or two. But anyway, where'd you want him?"

"Somewhere easy to place, so he'll be easy to spot".

"I'm on it", chirped Jason.

Reaching down he secured a tie-wrap around the goon's wrists. And despite his promise to his older brother, he kept a firm foot on the man's back- just in case. His self acclaimed knot tying skills had only been a tease, one which Dick, in his fatigue, had failed to see.

Once the man's hands and ankles were firmly bound and had hauled the unconscious man over his shoulder, Jason clambered up a ladder of the nearest storage unit and from there on to the next. Using them almost like giant stepping stones, he eventually found himself standing at the highest point of the pier, a mast positioned central over the bay. It glowed dimly, but it was the perfect drop of point none the less. Batman would be able to spot the heat of Jack Flash by the sensors on his suit in seconds.

Now Jason would just have to watch from afar.

When Dick's voice rattled over the line, Jason's first thought was that it would be another reminder to high-tail it out of there. However he quickly realised that it was not he who was being spoken to.

"No", Dick's voice was suddenly devoid of its earlier vulnerability. "Jack's been apprehended, I have him, wrapped and ready in the middle of the harbour, trust me, you won't miss him".

There was a short silence before Dick spoke again. "No, I'm sorry but I couldn't afford to wait around".

"Who are you talking to?" Jason queried. "Bruce?"

"Don't worry. He's not going anywhere", Dick exclaimed in a tormented sigh. Obviously he couldn't reply to his brother but that did not stop Jason from throwing in his two cents.

"_Tell him I said Hi"._

"No Br-Batman, he hasn't said anything. He's out cold".

"_Mmm...I presume our fearless leader is his usual chirpy self?"_

"No, he was on his own. Why? Should there have been someone else?" Dick attempted to focus, struggling to hear Bruce's reply over Jason whistling "Hail to the Chief" from the other line.

Luckily it was a closed line, as Bruce probably wouldn't have found the humour in Jason's impromptu impressions, not of Bruce himself but that infamous Batman growl.

"_Boy Wonder!"_ He barked, _"Why you do keep so many secrets? Don't you realise only I'm allowed to do that?!"_

Silence reigned down both lines and Dick realised that he'd been so fixated on Jason's gruff musings that he had not listened to the actual Bat. "Sorry?" He whispered tiredly.

Bruce was silent for a moment longer and then sighed. His voice was short, business like. "Take an early night, talk to me tomorrow".

Before Dick could reply, Bruce had already quite the line. Without another word to say to Jason, he promptly did the same.

Despite Dick's many warnings to leave the bay once the mission had been completed, he was still tempted just to hang around, hide in the shadows or perhaps confront the Bat face on. He would delight in the look on Bruce's masked face when Jason told him about the recently clipped golden goose. Golden boy, Golden Goose, Jason thought, I like it.

But whatever reason Dick had for keeping all this a secret was his own. And Jason, begrudgingly understood Dick's need to have something of his own, something Bruce couldn't manipulate or throw an unwanted opinion in on top of.

It was one of the few things both men had in common. Neither one was happy to entirely conform to Bruce, not like the Replacement. And as for Damien? Well, he honestly didn't know much about the child and neither was he really inclined.

Ready to give the new nickname its maiden voyage, he came to the conclusion that the feed had been far too quiet for too long.

"Goldie?" Jason sent down the line to no reply. "You there?"

It only took him a minute to realise that Dick was indeed not. He returned to Nightwing's apartment, admittedly in a huff. After all, he'd put himself out on a limb to do this little favour for Dick, he at least deserved a "thanks" or "good-night".

"Grayson", he continued on with his earlier impression, despite his sudden bad mood. If anything he just hoped to give his brother a scare. But it was probably useless, in all fairness to the Golden Boy, he knew Bruce better than anybody else – bar Alfred of course. So while Jason's prized mimicking could put the heart cross ways on a lesser man, Dick could not be fooled.

That was if he was conscious anyway.

"Golden Boy!" He called loudly but cut short when he entered the living room to find his older brother fast asleep by the window, his earpiece was still in.

"Oh Dickiebird", Jason sighed, shaking his head and wandering over towards the sleeping man. He detached the communicator and experimentally he waved a hand in front of the older man's face, still no avail, he was fast asleep. So as carefully as he could, Jason took hold of the chair and steered the chair towards what he supposed was Dick's bedroom.

Once there he found himself at a crossroad. He couldn't let Dick sleep in the chair all night but lifting him into bed would surely wake him and it would certainly hurt like hell. Like a band-aid, Jason concluded as he drew back the covers of the bed, just rip it off.

He wrapped his arm under Dick's knee, the other beneath his shoulders. He lifted him up gently but no amount of care in the world could prevent Dick's low moan of pain the moment he was moved from the chair.

Jason spoke not a word but laid him down quietly onto the mattress, hoping that sleep would find Dick quickly once more. His older brother continued to mutter unintelligibly as the bed sheet was drawn softly around him. "Thank you...Jason", he murmured sleepily, "but s'ist not your job...to care..for me".

"That's alright, Goldie", Jason replied confidently, "I never care, you know that".

Dick gave the slightest of nods but was then lost to sleep. Jason reached out and patted the knee hidden beneath several layers of blanket. "I don't care", he more or less repeated.

Though he wasn't entirely sure of who he was trying to convince.

* * *

In the morning, Dick woke to a weight pulling down upon the duvet around his feet. Still confused as to when exactly he'd found his way to bed, he sat up slowly and suppressed a laugh at the sight.

Jason was strewn across the bottom of his bed. His limbs flung in every direction and his hair the same. He snored gently and whenever he breathed in and out, the white streak of hair upon his forehead would rise and fall. It was unbelievably comical looking and then, as Dick remembered the night before more clearly, his face broke out into a warm smile.

As a further thank you, he decided to let his younger brother sleep on. And as stealthily as he could, he slipped out of the bed and into the chair. He stifled any growls of pain in the form of hitched breathing and without so much as a twitch from Jason, he exited the room.

He wheeled his way to the kitchen, where he scavenged for his bottle of pain killers and a glass of water. Unable to reach the sink from the chair, he forced himself to stand and poured a glass. He had only downed the pills when a movement, just a little too quick, sent a sharp, shocking pain up through his chest. He swore and doubled over, attempting to find the chair again with his eyes half closed and frame facing downwards. Looming above the ground that way was nauseating. However he didn't waver above for long. He soon came to greet it face first.

It was the smash of glass which woke Jason, but Dick's yelp that sent him running for the kitchen. "What the hell happened?" Jason barked, still partially asleep and very confused.

Dick was struggling to push himself up off the ground, his nose busted from the swan dive. It dripped blood upon the tile beneath him but it was the bloodied hand print which really caught Jason's attention.

Bending down upon his haunches, he helped his older brother sit up right. No words were passed between them as he examined the injured hand.

When Dick had fallen, he'd still had the glass in his hand. It had smashed upon impact and taken the liberty of imbedding itself into his palm.

"I don't know how you do it, Golden Goose", Jason muttered moodily. For not only had Dick managed to further hurt himself, but the perfection which was his new nickname would go straight over the older man's head in his present condition.

Dick sat in shameful lament as Jason jumped to his feet in search of a first aid kit. He almost tore several cupboard doors off their hinges in his foul temper. "You're so stubborn, you know that?" He snapped. "I mean, I know I'm pretty pig-headed but at least I have some sense of self preservation!"

"I did this out of self preservation", Dick mumbled, lifting his sleeve up to wipe the blood from his nose. The action was childlike but it earned no sympathy from Jason, who merely turned on the spot to Dick's cryptic response.

"What?"

"Managing by myself", Dick replied, "self preservation...for my own sanity. I couldn't deal with Bruce, Jason. It seems that lately, I only get to see him when I screw up. He knows everything about me, yet I'm losing grip on him and I hate that. I thought I knew him! Now, I don't know." The added in what was, if possible, a lower whisper. "Besides, I don't need to be looked after".

"See", Jason hissed, "that's what I'm talking about! You say you don't need to be looked after but there you are, sitting on the floor with half a glass stuck in your hand! And a wheelchair waiting for you in the corner!"

He hadn't realised he was shouting until he was done and the room was deathly quiet.

Abandoning his search for one short moment, Jason was at his side again.

"You do know him", he assured the defeated man before him. "Better than the rest of us do but even then we all know Bruce is no smooth sailing. The Batman, he's so stoic and solemn but Bruce's mood changes on a whim. But if I know one thing about him, it's that he's always thought the world of you. I don't call you the Golden Boy for no reason. So then why do you care about what he's obsessing and brooding over lately? It'll be something else in a week's time. Take it as a compliment that he'll always care for you."

"He cares for you too, Jason".

Jason was spared having to provide a response by the sound of the doorbell and impatient knocking. Glancing down at Dick's hand once again he swore that he'd shun whoever was at the door and be right back.

But when was anything that simple?

Jason took one quick look through the peep-hole and froze.

"Well", he whispered, "here's another thing we still know about Bruce. He's got terrible timing..."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello again! Here's the next chapter. Thank you so much every body who has reviewed, faved and followed! **

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"What did ya say?" Dick slurred from the kitchen, having only caught the tail end of Jason's mumbling.

Hesitating at the door, unsure of his next move, Jason spared another glance through the peep hole again before darting back towards the kitchen.

"I said Bruce," he entered the kitchen and watched how his older brother's eyes grew to the size of golf-balls, "has the worst timing in the world".

"You didn't let him in?"

Jason was taken aback, "I didn't think you'd want me to, can't you pretend you're just not at home?"

Dick looked flustered, "he's got a key anyway, if you don't answer the door he'll just-"

_Click._

Dick bit his tongue and grew as white as tile he sat upon. The sound of Bruce's soft footfalls was the only sound to be heard. That was until Jason, who was slowly backing away towards god knows where, crashed into table.

There was a pause, an eternity of silence. Then Bruce's footsteps grew quicker, louder and then gently echoed upon reaching the tile.

So there stood Bruce Wayne, minus the Bat suit but wearing a black presumably Armani suit in its stead. It was obvious by his attire that business had brought Bruce to Blüdhaven but curiosity as to his son's whereabouts had made him stay and not return to Gotham just yet.

Though maybe he now wished, for ignorance sake, that he'd just kept going. Unlikely, thought Dick, as far as his father was concerned, he'd arrived just at the right time.

"What the hell is going on here?" It would have been better if he'd shouted, bellowed angrily at them, but his low growl struck a greater fear into their hearts.

They were frozen, stupidly in place and staring back at the bat-glare thrown their way with wide, blue eyes and open mouths. Dick was the first to find his voice again, "I-I...uh..."

Bruce made his way to Dick, assessing the situation as he towered over the eldest of his sons. "Get up", he ordered sternly, reaching down to grab the hand Dick was cradling against his chest to examine the wound.

"I can't..." Dick whispered solemnly.

Hot headed, Bruce answered incredulously. "What do you mean you can't?"

Dick merely shook his head and produced a half hearted shrug.

In bewilderment, Bruce bent down and grabbed the young man by the elbows and hauled him roughly to his feet. This grip changed then to unintentionally press his arms in by his sides, to make his sudden marionette of a son stand straight. But when he did, Dick's frame crumbled. A cry racked through him and his eyes snapped shut, a hiss of pain taking over.

So shocked as he was, Bruce almost let go of the acrobat entirely. But he was the only thing between Dick and the floor and managed assure his grip on the pained figure, no matter how much Dick struggled.

Jason was suddenly at his side, a strange contraption at his disposal, it took a second glance for Bruce to realise what it really was. He moved to wrench his older brother out of Bruce's hold. However Bruce would have none of it.

The older man was staring at the wheelchair by Jason's side with sceptical eyes. Jason met his gaze, however for once, his eyes were soft, pleading and again he reached out to take his brother.

When Bruce relented, Jason carefully steered Dick into the chair. "You alright?" He asked into Grayson's ear. Ashen, Dick nodded limply in response.

Bruce watched the exchange, his face unreadable. Jason was strangely hopeful. Perhaps Bruce would go easy on them now, seeing the obvious care he treated the Golden Boy with.

But it was Bruce Wayne and he was Jason Todd, so it could never be that simple.

"What did you do?" Bruce accused with a snarl.

"I didn't do anything!" Jason retorted sharply.

"Then how did he get like this?"

"Through his own fault!" Jason's voice was rising steadily. "What? Does it never occur to you that I'm not a blood thirsty-"

"You're track record might suggest-"

"Bruce!" Dick's hoarse shout brought all present silent. Sucking in a deep breath, Dick continued at a levelled tone. "Leave Jason alone."

"This isn't his fault, he's right, it was mine", continued the eldest son. "And if you can't shut up and listen for two seconds, then go".

Dick felt Jason squeeze his shoulder, though he wasn't sure of how unconscious Jason was of the gesture. Still, it filled him with enough strength to confront their father which wasn't an easy feat considering that in the chair, he had two feet in height on him. Again it made Dick feel like he was twelve years old. He had to remind himself that he wasn't and that this was his home, no Bruce's, and that it was his life, his health.

"I was in a car accident," he sighed, "four days ago. I came back here, expecting that I could manage on my own. It turned out to be a hell of a lot more difficult than I thought it was going to be, Jason was good enough to help me".

"You're injuries?" Bruce's voice was cold. His expression had not softened over the course of Dick's tale, on hearing about the accident or Jason's apparent softer side.

Dick almost lost it then, not through anger however, strangely he almost burst out in laughter. not the humorous type however, the loud guffaws both men expected from Nightwing, on or off the job. No, the laughter would be callous and wry.

No apologies, no concern. Bruce was simply clinical, emotionless. Then again Dick hadn't expected anything more. Maybe his gypsy heritage wasn't lost entirely. Maybe he should give up vigilantism and tell fortunes instead. He could predict his own rather well.

So Dick would be just the same, robotically he listed off his injuries. Confirming what he had already to Jason, that the chair was only a temporary fixture.

Bruce merely nodded. "And what about now? What's this?" He regained his grip on Dick's wrist, holding it up before his face as if Dick needed a further reminder, as if the throbbing wasn't enough.

Over his shoulder, he heard rattling and rustling going on only to realise Jason wasn't behind him anymore, he was recovering that long lost first aid kit. And he was purposely making a racket of it. Bruce shot him a crippling glare. Although to the eldest's relief, it did distract him enough for Dick to slyly slip his hand out the death grip.

As he returned, Bruce held out his hand expectantly for the kit. Jason ignored him, opening it and leafing through its contents idly.

Dick could see World War III looming ominously before them all. "Just let him do it, Jay", Dick murmured and with a scowl, Jason snapped the lid closed and tossed the object Bruce's way.

Bruce cleaned, stitched and bandaged the wound almost entirely in silence. Despite his obvious aggravation, his touch was kindly. But even then it couldn't manage to lift the heavy atmosphere which resided over the room. That dropped by several degrees more when Bruce finally spoke up, in the process of wrapping the injured palm. "You were in hospital", it wasn't a question. It was a statement. "Why wasn't I informed? Am I not one of your emergency contacts?"

Dick said nothing. Bruce didn't look up from his task but the line of his mouth, already grim, downturned further. His jaw tightened, attempting to hold back words that laced his tongue. In the end, he only let two slip.

"I see".

"Bruce-"

"Don't", Bruce warned him as he came to stand, placing Dick in the direct line of fire. "Honestly, if you wanted to keep all this from be before then I really don't care what you have to say now. You've made your point, whatever that is".

Jason took it upon himself to stand in between them. "Why don't you let him explain?" He demanded lowly, "you'll feel an awful lot less of a fool later."

Bruce let loose the regarded and feared bat-glare. "Of all people", he directed towards Dick, "you choose Jason Todd to take care of you?"

He poked Jason in the chest. The younger man did not flinch. "This man? Irresponsible, volatile Jason Todd?"

"Volatile?" Jason challenged. "Why don't you take a look at yourself, Bruce?"

"Please, the two of you! Stop-"

Dick was overpowered. The two didn't even glance his way in their heated exchange.

"Get out of here, Jason", Bruce told him sharply. "Go, if you know what's good for you".

That forced Dick to stand and make his presence known. He staggered around Jason towards their father. "You have no right to kick anybody out of my apartment!"

"And you had no right to keep any of this from me. I'm supposed to be your father!"

"You're supposed to be _our _father", Dick stressed, his face stoic and strong despite his weakened state.

Bruce looked taken aback. He stood stunned, as if the much acclaimed Golden Boy had just back-handed him across the face. His eyes flickered between the two boys once and then again before he turned and left. His eyes alright with anger but his face stony and harsh, leaving nothing but the slam of a door in his wake.

Dick sunk back defeated into the chair, this had been the confrontation he'd dreaded from the start and it had gone horribly wrong.

To his further dismay, Jason edged away from him, trailing after Bruce despite his older brother's protests. "Where are you going?" Dick called, trying to see how he could have insulted Jason also. After all, he'd done his best to defend him. "Jason...why? What are you doing?"

Jason wasn't to be deterred, charging after Bruce like a missile locked on a target. He did not stop, however he did crane around, motioning Dick to stay where he was. When Dick caught his younger brother's eyes, he noted how they burned similarly to Bruce's.

Never had they looked more like father and son, though blood had nothing to do with the resemblance.

Dick realised that he had not Jason set against him. Quite the opposite, he had only made him that more determined to fight his brother's cause. Dick's heart jumped in pride and comradeship, something he'd never thought he'd ever really share with the wayward son of Bruce Wayne.

Then panic struck him, for he wasn't against Bruce either. Yes, he found him more obnoxious now than ever. But he'd often felt the same way about Jason too.

He did not want a further argument to ensue. Both men were equally as stubborn, with tempers that rivaled no one but each others.

His words, meant to snap Bruce to his senses, had instead pitted the two against one another.

"Jason, please don't!" Dick shouted after him, "just leave him be!"

"Jason!"

Frantically wheeling forward, despite his injured hand, Dick took off after them. Haste was needed, but his movements were awkward and jarred. Eventually he gave up, opting for his feet instead. Leaving the chair behind he hobbled at some form of a pace into the hallway even though he knew they were already long gone. "Bruce!" He barked. "Jason!"

He reached the staircase but dared go no further. He stared down towards its many levels, searching desperately for signs of life.

He lumbered towards the elevator then, frantically pressing buttons until he landed in an equally desolate lobby. Out on the street, he braved being jostled by pedestrians, searching for his father and brother amongst the crowd. It was an impossible task, who knows where the two night crawlers had gotten to by now.

Dick leaned up against a cool wall, using it to support and shelter his injured side from the busy street goers. He watched the world go by dazedly as he could only imagine what the evening held in store for the Bat and the Hood.

One thing for sure, if did he not intervene it was going to end bloody.

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**Feedback, as usual, is much appreciated! :D **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

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Bruces eye's bore out darkly from behind the cowl, he was greeted by shrouded eyes, the Red Hood.

They stood opposite one another, roughly five metres apart. But in spirit they were the north and south poles of the Bat family, equally distant, harsh and cold.

"Take off the hood, Jason", commanded the bat in low tones.

Jason had been planning to. After all, what good was a self satisfied smirk without anyone to see it? But the very fact Bruce demanded it of him made him hold fast.

The lights of the city below them reflected in the polished surface of the red helmet. As he moved, the image distorted and changed. However the blank face of the helmet stared on without falter. It was a wall between them. And Bruce wanted nothing more than tear it down. He wanted to see his sons face. Not the mask that had caused their family so much strife.

"Why?" Jason countered, "Don't like not having control over something, do you Bruce?"

"I want to speak to your face".

"Hey, count it this way, at least your actually talking to me".

The Batman scowled and cut to the point, "why did you call me here?"

"I have a bone to pick with you", growled the Hood.

Without further prompt, Jason began. "I really think you should swap that cave of yours for an ivory tower. All you ever do is try to control the lot of us. Me, Nightwing, the Replacement- heck, even your own son. You're one true son, that is".

"You know how I feel about all of you".

Jason chuckled dryly.

"Oh, I know how you feel about the Golden Boy, despite the fact you won't even hear him out. You've brainwashed the Replacement to your ways and the Spawn? Well, Nightwing made him tolerable but no doubt you'll see to that".

Suddenly the chilly night was growing more tepid. Or perhaps that was just the slow boiling of blood and tempers rising.

"As for me? Well you've made how you feel about me very, very clear".

"And you've been subtle with your resentment?" Bruce shot back. "You've taken a shot at everyone in this family. You have no respect for anyone and I don't know what you expect to gain from manipulating him, Jason. But I warn you, if you do anything to hurt him then you will have me to deal with".

They both knew who _he _was in this conversation.

"You think I'm trying to manipulate him?" Spat Jason in response, stepping forward and slowly approaching Bruce. "You're wrong. If anything, he manipulated _me_".

He was circling his adoptive father now, like a caged lion. "Wounded bird winds up in front of me, what did you expect me to do? Throw him out the window?"

"I couldn't do that, never. So don't presume you know me so well. As for why I would help him, well he was my brother once and personally, that hasn't changed. Problem is; we're two very different people. We're always bound to argue, primarily over you".

Batman said nothing, his mouth twitched in agitation but words failed him.

"But you and me, Batman", Jason hissed. "We're the same. And that is why we are always going to hate each other."

"You're my mirror?" Batman was incredulous.

"You hate what you see in me, that you see in yourself," concluded Jason with the utmost confidence.

"That's not true-"

"Isn't it?" Jason bellowed. "I've never quiet followed your rules. The same you constantly ignore! It's one rule for you and another for everyone else, except for me. And unlike you, I don't try to deny it".

Bruce laughed bitterly. "Is that all you called me for? To have your little jib at me and my parenting skills?"

"No", Jason growled, coming to a halt.

"Then what?"

There was a blur of red and Batman felt the impact seconds later, he staggered but was not knocked off of his feet. He managed to duck away from a second blow that was thrown his way, knocking Jason away as he twisted back to his full height.

The game of cat and mouse continued. Jason offensive, the Bat defensive. But Bruce did not know how much longer he could stay passive. Eventually, if he didn't relent, he would have to put Jason down. Or things could get serious, and deadly, very quickly.

Jason, using the best of his agility, went in for a high kick. He did not possess Dick's weightlessness in the air but that did not mean he was without skill.

Bruce readied himself to block the attack. However Jason was thrown off course before any contact was made. A shadowy figure collided with the Hood midflight, sending him shooting sideways as the third, smaller figure, landed between the pair.

"Stay out of this, replacement", Jason hissed as he stumbled backwards, jumping in surprise as an arm snaked its way around his neck. Instinctively he jolted backwards, slamming himself against the nearest wall in order to dislodge his mysterious attacker.

A cry of pain erupted from the figure and a flash of blue shot into Jason's line of sight. Instantly he froze, "Nightwing?" He whispered, shocked and appalled.

The grip around him only tightened, as Dick struggled to find his voice. His breathing was laboured and his hold was nowhere near strong enough to restrain the younger man. But Jason had no interest in fighting him.

He felt frustration surge through him. What was Dick thinking? He could barely walk? Let alone go gallivanting as Nightwing? And he'd included the Babybird?

Meanwhile, Bruce stared down the second youngest of his sons. "Red Robin", he barked. "Stay out of this".

Tim said nothing, his mouth set simply in a hard line. His shoulders were set broad and stubborn and the eyes the pierced beyond his mask were guarded and stern. He suddenly looked a lot more menacing and this was not unsurprising, Tim time of being called a boy was running short. He was though, as Dick often put it, the "shrimp of the family". A "highly intelligent shrimp none the less" he would add swiftly enough.

Bruce went to move, to investigate what was going on beyond Red Robin. Much like Jason, he spotted the flash of blue and his stomach plummeted. He was set to charge when Tim stepped into his path, unrelenting even under the sharpest of bat-glares.

Tim wasn't fighting on his behalf, he realised. He was on the side of his oldest brother.

"Out of the way", he ordered.

Tim gave a slow, firm shake of his head. "No".

Bruce was shocked. Tim did not usually violate a direct order. Then again, he was taking his orders from elsewhere.

Before it had been city nightlife which the helmet had reflected, now it was Dick Grayson's pained expression. The younger of the two was lucky not to bear witness to it, though it would make Dick's life an awful lot easier if he could.

Guilt him now, Dick thought desperately, trying to be humorous even at his own expense. And you can always reason with him later.

"This has nothing to do with you", Jason snarled. "Get out of here".

"This has to do with all of us!" Dick reprimanded. "Please, Jason! Stand down".

"Get off me", warned Jason, his voice a razor in the shadows.

When his brother took no heed of him, Jason jostled him sharply. He winced at the sound of the man's sharp, agonized intake. But he could not deter Richard Grayson.

"Nightwing?" Tim's voice called. Dick responded to see his younger brother standing at the ready to jump to his aid. Dick not need utter a word, he simply replied in the form of a look, a reminder that Tim was here to help keep the peace. Not join in on the action.

"If I hadn't come here tonight, you would have killed each other!"

Jason did not confirm nor deny this. He merely issued Dick another warning to walk away. "And take the replacement with you!" He added venomously.

He jerked backwards again, sending both of them toppling.

Neither one had realised how close they were to the edge.

They were met with an open fall. Jason reacted purely out of instinct. He launched a grappling hook and put a sudden halt t his fall. It had been a short drop with a sharp, twisting stop. And in that moment, that rush of pure adrenaline, he had forgotten about his brother.

Just a moment was all it took.

"No!" He screamed, when he felt the weight of the older man fall off his shoulders and he was unable to grab a hold of the man.

The acrobat slipped through his fingers and was plummeting to an unforgiving collision with the cold, hard ground.

And there was nothing he could do.

Nothing he could do to save his brother.

But Nightwing was never to hit the ground, a hood and cape swept past Jason at the speed of lightening. The boy swooped down and caught hold of his ex-mentor, as if he was pulling the man from the jaws of death.

Damien purposely refrained from meeting the gaze of the others as he lowered himself and Dick slowly to the safety of solid ground.

He would frankly deny the look of relief that graced his features, and the sigh which escaped his lips.

"Are you hurt?" Demanded Damien, in his typical matter of fact manner.

Dick nodded mutedly, pale with a faint sheet of cold sweat lacing his forehead and brow.

A soft thud landed down beside them, Tim crouched down to be at eye level with the two of them. Damien shot him a mild glare from the corner of his eye but passed no further regards as Tim reached toward to steady Dick, who swayed in his attempts to sit upright.

Jason promptly joined them. His immediate reaction was to bull past the Spawn and the Replacement. But a sudden change in temper made him stand back and take his place beside the younger boys.

Making it three all crowded around their older brother like a flock of mother hens, three ex-Robins who in any other circumstance, would be at each other's throat.

Batman watched this phenomenon from above.

If Dick had wanted peace amongst the family, he had managed it. Even if he had gone to extreme measures and endangered his health in the process.

By the time he reached them in the abandoned alley. The three Robins were discussing how they would get Dick back to his apartment. The eldest of the boys had managed limited manoeuvring before at a hobble. But right now he was utterly exhausted. So they debated over whether or not they could carry him.

Dick weakly refused to be carried or "ferried" as he put it. As for the Robins it was a case of who would carry him. The argument stood between Jason and Tim mainly, despite Damien's fruitless attempts to be considered.

"Really Replacement?" Jason was incredulous. "You can barely lift yourself. You're a little pick of a thing. I doubt you could even lift the Spawn".

"For your information", piped up Damien indignantly, "I have fought and beaten men double, if not triple, Grayson's weight. Making it quite possible-"

"Enough", Bruce voiced, bringing all present into strict silence. However it was not out of fear. The rich man's was soft, that of their father- not the Bat. "I'll carry him".

Dick was still arguing that he need not by carried, even when he was laid down to rest on his bed. But he was only half awake. And out for the count within seconds of settling down amongst the pillows.

"G'night", he slurred.

He felt his father's hand reach out to brush his hair away from his face. "Goodnight, son".

It was such a peaceful moment.

Shame the others felt the need to ruin it.

"Yes, good night Grayson".

"Night, Dick".

"See you in the morning, Golden Goose".

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**Thank you to everyone who has supported this story! I appreciate all your feedback ! :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:Hope you enjoy! :D**

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The sun was drifting through a crack in the curtains by the time Dick slowly returned to the land of the living. And to accompany the small particles of dust that filtered through the morning air was a rich, mouth-watering scent, drifting inward from the kitchen.

The acrobat tried to move, angle himself about gingerly to try and grasp his surroundings. He was back in his apartment. He only vaguely remembered being taken back to the comfort of his bed the night before. However he was far from comfort now, every part of him ached, to the point that it even hurt to breathe.

He dared not move to sit upright, as lying on his back was enough of a challenge. But he did crane his neck to discover he had company.

Bruce sat on the bed next to him, rested against the headboard with his arms crossed. His figure was hunched and fast asleep. Despite currently residing in the realms of sleep, Bruce's face was still contorted into his distinctive harsh, scowl.

He was so accustomed to the expression that he was long since insulted. Though it was admittedly still intimidating, it was no longer something he always took so personally. In fact, its presence made those quieter, tender moments so much sweeter- when Bruce would flash a rare smile or look of utter pride in the direction of his sons.

"Bruce", he croaked, attempting to rouse his adoptive father. His voice was against him however, faint and brittle. "Bruce", he spoke a little louder.

Bruce did not stir but there came a shadow in the doorway. Not large enough to be Jason, yet nowhere near the height of young Damien. The person was light on their feet, perfectly silent like a cat. Soon the shadow came out into the light of day, crouching down next to his bedside. He bore the most inquisitive blue eyes and thin lips, set in a constant, earnest line.

"Timmy", the eldest breathed kindly, smiling at the rapidly maturing face opposite him.

Tim flashed him a small smile, flecked only by a twinge of sadness. "Hey Dick, you alright?"

Dick nodded tiredly and Tim helped him sit upright slowly. "You hungry?" Tim asked this time.

"Is that you're cooking I smell?" Dick replied and Tim grinned.

"You don't train in Paris and not learn to cook", the younger man informed him.

While Tim left to retrieve breakfast for his brother, it was Jason and Damien's turn to saunter into the room and visit their patient.

"Wow", he murmured, "I didn't know my apartment could fit so many people. Who else is here?"

"I'm afraid it's just us", Jason informed him. "Though if you really want, I can cut some of the fat for you".

His tone was menacing and Dick knew instantly that he was referring to Tim and most likely Bruce as well. They were however, always welcome in his home.

"No need Jason", Dick responded with a warning look.

Jason sniggered. Damien merely looked thoughtfully between the two and then to his father as the sound of Jason's laughter woke him instantly.

"Morning, Batsy", Jason called in a bitter sing song.

"Jason", Bruce's voice was cold.

"Good lord", the eldest of the brothers cried in exasperation. "I've only just woken up. Can I at least have breakfast before WWIII kick-starts?"

As if on cue, Tim re-emerged with a tray of food in hand, he passed it quietly to Dick who thanked him, ruffling his wisps of black hair as the young man tried to squirm away from the gesture.

A soft laugh escaped Tim but it was instantly cut short by an interruption from Damien. "Maybe you should hang up the cloak and mask and just take Pennyworth's job, eh Drake?"

At this Jason burst out laughing, Bruce tensed and Dick gave up trying to enjoy the meal. With a sigh he placed his knife and fork back down onto the tray. He was ready to defend Tim to whatever Jason conjured up in response to Damien. Luckily, Tim forever skilled in his ability to read people, saved the day with far more, genteel conversation.

"So, what plans do you have..." He began, obviously looking for ways he could assist his older brother. However now it was Bruce's turn to forcefully intervene.

"His plans for today are to rest".

"Actually", Dick coughed, clearing his throat and asserting his voice amongst the band of Wayne and Co. crammed into his bedroom. "I have a check up today. So if anything, I should be getting ready to go in the next half hour."

"I can go with you-" Tim suggested but it became clear very quickly that if anybody was accompanying Dick to that doctor's appointment, then it would be Bruce.

And that thought was far more painful than that of getting out of bed and running a marathon before sideling into Blüdhaven General. He suppressed a childish yearning to dive beneath the covers in the hope they would disband by the time he surfaced. Not the case however, for as the day was set to go on, the Bat-Clan was only to become more and more intense.

* * *

"This isn't a discussion", Bruce was stern, unyielding. "This is me telling you that you are going to coming back to the mansion with us. You can't possibly manage to look after yourself here on your own, Richard".

"I've managed just fine until now, I should be fine now anyway- it's been a week, I'm healing".

Bruce managed a dry, wry laugh. "Were you not listening to a thing that doctor said?"

The doctor in question had been appalled upon assessing Dick's supposedly "recuperating" injuries. If anything, he'd done more damage to himself in the last day then the original accident, any amount of healing done ripped away in one evenings worth. It would take him double time to heal now and he would not be out of the chair for at least a month.

"Well maybe if he treated me like an adult and not a child, I would have been listening", Dick retorted stubbornly.

Also coming to the conclusion that Richard Grayson was unfit to look after himself, the doctor had spoken directly to Bruce from there on out. Dick had been like the child in the corner, being reprimanded for his recklessness as the "adults" discussed the serious matters.

Bruce merely shook his head, refusing to let his son steer himself in the wheelchair as they exited the hospital.

"God forbid, I'd wheel out right in front of a bus for kicks", Dick grumbled and again refused to be cosseted.

"Blüdhaven is where I live, where I work- I'll always think of the manor as home Bruce but I can't just drop everything and leave. I have a life here too!"

"We'll discuss this later", the billionaire told him icily whilst hailing for a cab.

"There's nothing to discuss", the acrobat was just as adamant. "I'm staying here".

Begrudgingly he was assisted into the cab but refused to speak and make light conversation with his adoptive father as they were ferried through the cities midday traffic. He wanted to argue with Bruce about his own independence. But Bruce would not touch on such topics with another man, the taxi driver, at liberty to eavesdrop.

"I'll call Alfred and ask him to prepare your room".

"And I'll ring him and tell him there's no need!"

"Who do you really think he's going to listen to?" Bruce shot back. "Now enough, I said we'd discuss this later".

Dick shot him a glare before turning to focus his wrath upon the window and the world outside that flashed by at their own will, pedestrians flaunting the use of their legs and feet as they paraded past the cab.

It didn't matter when they chose to discuss any of this, Dick thought heatedly. He was not going to be bullied.

* * *

Of course he was a fool to think his opinion or preference would be enough to sway the Bat. By the time they arrived back at his apartment, Jason and Damien were watching some reality TV programme. Damien was doing this purely for the purpose of psycho analysis and the pitfalls of today's modern culture. For Jason it was because the show centred round an ex-playboy model.

Tim was nowhere to be seen at first. Then Dick stumbled across him on the opposite side of the apartment, naturally of course, snoozing lightly. He was a brave man, Dick thought, to do so with two potential enemies sitting in dangerous proximity.

Bruce continued to argue with his son for the remainder of the evening, until finally Dick retired to his room in a huff. Silence, golden silence, echoed through the apartment. A few minutes later it was disturbed by the sound of hushed voices and then shattered through the arrogance of slamming doors.

Then there came a soft knock on the door.

"Go away", he called exhaustedly.

The same three beat knock sounded again.

"I said go away-" The door creaked open slightly and he stopped himself, "oh, sorry Tim".

"You'll be relieved to know", Tim began, edging slowly into the room. "The others have gone out, not together obviously. Damien and Bruce are headed back to Gotham. I don't know where Jason's gone".

Dick merely nodded and lay back, facing the ceiling. Relief racked through his body at the thought they might actually let him win this one.

"I can go too if you want..." the quiet voice of his younger brother filtered like the earlier dust through the air.

The older man's face softened and he sat up again, patting a space on the bed next to him. Tim complied and eventually relaxed back. However the tension that remained in his face worried the older brother, "are you alright, Tim?"

Tim was generally the quiet, geeky/genius one of the family. However lately he'd been bordering upon distant and the raincloud that appeared to follow the youth around everywhere he went was troubling him.

Tim seemed a little startled by the question and promptly shook his head firmly. However his voice was not so convincing. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"You just seem a little...off?"

"I'm fine", Tim reassured him a little too quickly.

"Besides," he added slowly, "you shouldn't be so worried about me. You should be taking better care of yourself".

"...and that would start by getting your ass back to Gotham".

Dick's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Look, Dick", Tim started hurriedly. "I know how you feel. You don't want to feel like a burden to anybody. But staying put here by yourself isn't going to do any good. The very people you want to avoid troubling will just be worried sick instead. Come back to Gotham. Stay just a few days at least. It'll make everyone else feel better and you won't admit it, but you'll feel a hell of a lot better too."

A sudden realisation dawned on Dick, upon hearing his brother's words. "Wait...Tim, you don't feel like a burden do you?" It would explain the younger man's odd mood these past few days. "Why would you feel like a burden?"

Tim looked set to pull his hair out. "Richard!" It was highly unusual for him to use his brother's full name. Forget about me for two seconds and try to be sensible! We're you listening to anything I just said!"

Dick couldn't help but laugh at how much Tim was unintentionally mimicking Bruce from earlier. Tim looked highly offended by his sudden outburst and went to move. Still laughing, Dick wrapped his arm around his brother's waist and pulled him back into an embrace. "Aww, Timmy", he chuckled, "you're going to have to learn to chill out a bit".

"I would if you'd stop giving me grey hairs", Tim muttered indignantly. "I'm seventeen! And I've already got a dozen grey hairs!"

Dick carded a hand through his hair affectionately. "Don't worry, there not noticeable. Now that bald spot on the other hand..."

Tim laughed and looked him dead in the eye, those blue orbs growing serious again. "So will you please come back to Gotham?"

Dick sighed, finally admitting defeat. He could not say no to Tim, Bruce was undoubtedly aware of this so their leaving was probably a lot more orchestrated then Tim would admit to. Anyway, the thought of returning to the manor, seeing Alf...it was something he was looking forward to now. Talking to Tim one on one sorely reminded him of how little he'd seen of his younger brother lately.

This same brothers alarming aura was a further reminder how much this he needed keeping an eye over.

"Alright," he relented. "I will. But only for a few days- a week tops".

A genuine smile broke out across the seventeen year olds face for the first time since their reunion a day or so before.

"Will I help you pack then?" Tim offered.

"Help?" Dick scoffed, leaning back into the comfort of the duvet. "You are going to pack for me".

Tim didn't argue and did so, much to his brother's content, with his warm smile still in place.

* * *

**As usual feedback is appreciated! **

**Until next time :)**

**xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Here's the next chapter, lucky no. 7 I hope ;) **

* * *

"Well", Jason mused as they stood before the Manor and the elegant mouth of steps leading up to the grand doorway. "This could be a bit of a problem".

"We'll just take it slow", Dick shrugged and slowly began to rise out of his chair.

Jason looked reluctant to let him out of the chair but knew there were few other options. He attempted to wrap a supportive hand around his brother as he stumbled over to the stone banister. But the acrobat shoved him away stubbornly and rested his weight against the cold stone instead. Step by step, it was a painfully slow ascent.

"Hey", Jason chuckled when they were halfway there. "You know what this is?"

"What?"

"Your Everest".

"My what?" Dick raised dark eyebrows questioningly.

"You're Everest- you know when people get knocked down, literately in your case, and then have their big comeback..." Jason trailed off lamely. "Your Everest".

Dick stared at him blankly, his teeth chattering slightly with the cold. His current shivering, aching state was slowly his brain and making it progressively harder to keep on a train of thought that didn't vote for curling up into a ball. So Jason's humor or attempt of it was never going to have much of an effect on his worse for wear brother. "It's certainly taking forever..." he grumbled, marching along.

Silence reigned again when a low humming came to the older boy's attention, with raised eyebrows he glanced around. He recognised it...the beat...

"The Rocky theme?" He looked incredulously towards Jason.

Jason's humming became singing, which only grew volume and enthusiasm which each step. He'd reached the grand finale once they'd arrived "Everest's" great summit. He slapped the wheelchair down and with an amused shake of his head, the eldest Wayne son eased carefully into its wretched confines.

Exhaustion swept over him and there was nothing more he'd love just to sit in peace for a moment. But when he failed to wheel himself off immediately, Jason took over, pushing him a little too recklessly towards the doorway, which had now opened to reveal Alfred.

"I will not permit running in the house", he reminded the young men firmly as Jason speed past.

"Whatever you say, Alf", Jason grinned and let go of the wheelchair with one final push. It careered just as far as the staircase. Only a sharp break by Dick stopped it from tumbling face first into the hard marble.

Jason cringed. He could not help but blurt out a mumbled apology, especially when the wrath of Alfred bore down upon the back of his neck. "Whoops, sorry Dickiebird".

Dick merely nodded mutedly and this was a cause of concern for all present.

"You alright?" Jason frowned.

"Yeah", Dick ran a hand through is dark hair, "just...just tired is all".

"Why not make yourself comfortable in the living room?" suggested Alfred, already at the first Robin's side with a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Good idea", the so called Golden Boy yawned. And before he could even lift his arms, he was already being steered towards the warm, dimly lit lounge by the butler.

"Thank you, Alfred", he sighed contentedly as he relaxed back into the luxurious leather sofa. A fire blazed in the hearth opposite and he could fall into sleep right there and then.

Originally he'd been reluctant to return to the manor, now in the warm glow and familiar bounds of the house, he could not fathom as to why.

There was a sudden dip in the couch next t o him and he cracked open an eye to see it was Jason. He smiled and then let himself drift away again but not without noticing how uncomfortable Jason seemed first.

He refocused himself to watch his younger brother, who sat perched on the edge of the couch as if he was expecting to be shooed away at any moment.

"Jay-" He began but Alfred interrupted his train of thought by returning into the room with a tray of tea and biscuits.

"Be sure not to ruin your appetite however", he warned as he placed it gently onto the coffee table and took the liberty of pouring both boys a china cup each. "Dinner will be ready shortly once Master Bruce and Damien have returned from patrol."

The butler then turned to Jason, "you will be staying for dinner, Master Todd?"

Jason looked unsure, his blue eyes shooting towards his older brother as if Dick would decide this for him. Dick only providing a small smile however and with some due hesitation, Jason agreed.

Alfred paused in the pouring of tea for a millisecond in what could only be shock before continuing on and handing out the delicate china appropriately. "I'll set another place then", he said, a smile playing at his lips as he disappeared again out of the room.

Dick drank appreciatively at the warm tea, winter was fast approaching and he could not say he hadn't felt the full force of its chill earlier while scaling the manor steps.

Jason wasn't so eager. He sniffed at the liquid and sipped it tentatively before pulling a face and sliding back onto the coffee table.

"Dinner, eh?" He murmured dryly. "This should be fun".

* * *

Eventually, after the return of Bruce and Damien, all the family found themselves sitting down to dinner. Alfred was shamelessly pleased to see the father and his son's gathered round the table. They were almost a full, functioning family unit. Almost.

"Where's Tim?"

"Timothy will not be joining us this evening", Alfred responded quickly.

"Did he give a reason why?" Bruce frowned.

"He did not", Alfred shook his head. His tone changed then, becoming swiftly brighter. "But as you can see, Master Todd has graced us with his presence this evening".

"I can see that", Bruce commented, though his tone revealed nothing. They all had plenty of time later to decipher the statement however as they ate in close to silence from thereon. Every now and again, clipped small talk would pass between them but then would die a quick death. And when they finished their starters with barely a word said between them. Alfred took it upon himself to stir up some conversation once more.

"I presume, Master Todd", he stated. "That you will want me to prepare your room for later? I take it that you are staying the night?"

Jason glanced uncertainly towards Dick, who nodded encouragingly. But despite this, Jason's immediate response was to run in the opposite direction. "No thanks, Alfred, I'll be heading out after dinner".

"Are you sure sir?"

"No, he'll stay", Bruce assured the Butler before turning to his son to make him realise this as well. "You'll stay".

His voice was softer than before, undoubtedly guarded but also very much Bruce Wayne. He had obviously left the Bat persona down in the cave this evening and that alone made half the pain in Dick's side ebb away. But then perhaps the gnawing ache he'd felt all afternoon had nothing to do with his broken ribs but instead was him fretting. Over Bruce and Jason primarily.

"Okay", Jason appeared equally as apprehensive. "Cool".

The atmosphere at the table became easier after that and conversation blossomed over the newest member of the board at Wayne Enterprises, who was disliked to say the least. And Damien's maths teacher, who according to the young boy, was an imbecile. "More than you are, Grayson", he added.

"What?" Dick was taken aback.

"I apologise Grayson, I take it back", Damien corrected himself. "You are simply an emotional idiot".

"I think that's the most beautiful thing he's ever said to you", Jason deadpanned, the first to speak after a moment.

Despite the sharp, shooting pains that wracked through him, the eldest boy burst out in laughter and he was sure he saw a chuckle escape Bruce. That until his face started to go red and his expression was more of discomfort than humorous.

"Dick", he warned, ready to rise from his seat if his son displayed any further signs of distress. "Breathe..."

Dick composed himself and managed a leer across the table towards Jason who smirked in response and sniggered to himself.

After dinner, they relaxed in the lounge and soon began excusing themselves for bed. Jason was the first, not wanting to chance his arm considering things were actually going rather well. Next was Damien and so only Bruce and Dick remained.

Of course it only took them a few minutes to get into an argument.

"No", Bruce exclaimed, "you cannot sleep on the couch!"

"I'm tired", he complained. "I couldn't face the stairs right now-"

"I'll carry you then".

"I couldn't face that either! Please, I'm comfortable here- it's the only way I'll get a good night's sleep..."

"On a couch?"

"Hey", he argued, "this couch is far more comfortable than my bed in Blüdhaven will ever be. Please Bruce, just for tonight".

In the end, it was the pleading look in his son's exhausted blue eyes that brought him to relent. He begrudgingly allowed it but not without providing him with several extra blankets and a lot of unnecessary pillow fluffing.

In the unrivalled quiet of the house, he soon began to drift off into sleep. However, a weight on the couch next to him caused him to start. He jolted slightly to see the small frame of Damien curled up on the end of the couch.

"You decided to keep me company?" Dick couldn't suppress a smile, one that beamed in the darkness.

Damien merely huffed. "I'll have you know, Grayson, that I'm merely here to watch the end of a documentary I saw earlier".

Dick chuckled and only managed to gather the documentary was about the Ancient Greek's before he drifted off. And woke to Damien still curled up on the couch next to him in the morning, his head resting on his brother's chest. The pressure on his side caused him unease but he would forgo the pain if it meant not waking his brother.

He fell back into sleep, wakening again two hours later to find Damien gone. Of course when Dick teased him about this later, he denied the existence of the documentary entirely.

* * *

**Feed back and reviews appreciated! :D xxx**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: It's shorter than usually but wraps the story up quite nicely I think :)**

"I'd like to see you try to wheel your way through that", Tim commented with a smirk as Dick stared out at the snow covered grounds.

His older brother chuckled. "Is that a challenge?"

"No Tiny Tim", he quipped, "we want to keep you alive for Christmas".

Dick raised an eyebrow, "Tiny Tim? You _are _Tiny Tim".

"What does that make you then?" Jason strode into the room, filing the new nickname for the Replacement somewhere in the back of his mind. "Tiny D- no on second thought, let's not go there".

"You're back!" The eldest brother smiled and Jason merely nodded. Despite only wishing to stay a night when they'd first arrived at the manor, Jason had stayed a week. It had been two weeks now since he had returned to the home and now Jason had also flown back to the nest for the festive season.

Tim was arranging the Christmas tree with Alfred meanwhile Damien was at school and Bruce at Wayne Enterprises.

Dick had enquired into why Tim wasn't at school. It certainly wasn't like the family genius to ditch. Tim had merely replied that taking one day off wouldn't do any harm. Still, it was uncharacteristic from the seventeen year old.

Tim moved around the tree, string up bobbles wherever it suited him but whenever he left a spot and continued clockwise around the tree, Alfred would rearrange what he'd done seconds later. Alfred was not one for mismatched trees. Every piece of tinsel in his opinion had to be perfectly in place.

Jason sat down in the windowsill opposite Dick and craned his neck around to view for himself what Dick found so interesting.

"What are you looking at?" He questioned.

"Just the snow", Dick said sombrely.

"You don't like it?"

"No," Dick sighed, "I love snow, I love Christmas. And I'd hoped I'd be up and moving for the holidays".

Jason was at a loss of words, "hey," he finally managed. "Maybe you'll be out by New Year".

"Yeah", replied Dick disheartened, "maybe".

Jason awkwardly stepped away from the window and made his way out into the hall, where no watching where he was going, he almost fell over a multitude of old timber and frames. However, at least the door to the living room was closed, so no one witness his blunder. Swearing under his breath he kicked it away. But that was when Tim appeared in the hallway and Jason presumed he'd make better use of it.

"Here", he said, nudging the boards of wood with his toe, "I guess Alfred plans to use this for firewood but get it out of here before somebody breaks their neck over it".

Tim suppressed a smirk and reached down, scooping it all up and moving towards the garage. He had dumped it down in the driest corner of the garage when suddenly an idea came to mind.

* * *

"Where did Timbo get to?" Dick asked several hours later. It seemed like an impossible task to get all the bats in the one room this evening. First it had been himself, Jason and Tim and when Damien and Bruce finally returned, Tim went MIA.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, "I didn't even know he was here".

"Master Timothy helped me arrange the tree this afternoon", Alfred informed his master with a smile.

Dick chuckled. "Oh come on Alf, you hardly let him touch it. It is a masterpiece though- a true work of art".

Damien merely huffed in the corner, making a remark at how a tree covered with twinkly lights could hardly be compared to the great works of Da Vinci or Van Gogh.

Jason was sitting in the far corner of the room, a distance from the rest of the family but it was progress that he even chose to be in the same floor of the manor with the others. "Speak of the devil", he muttered a few minutes later, when Tim's lean frame poked through the doorway.

"There he is", Bruce looked up from the evening newspaper he was reading. "We were starting to worry about you".

Tim flashed them a quick smile before turning to the very person no one would expect him to. "Jason, come out here for a second".

Jason seemed as startled as everyone else. "What do you want?"

"Just get out here".

Huffing, Jason rose from his seat in one of the plush armchairs and met the younger man in the hallway. "Alright, you got me, what is it?"

Tim directed him towards the prized object sitting in the middle of the hallway. "What do you think?" He asked.

Jason couldn't help the short chortle that escaped him. Sitting before him had been the old timbers from earlier. Now they'd been put to use to make a snow sledge, painted blue and black. "How did you..." Jason wouldn't admit it but he was impressed.

"The hardest part was making the blades for the bottom but other than that it was pretty easy, do you think he'll like the colour?"

Jason shook his head, "you're alright Replacement, you know that?"

Tim shrugged while Jason called out loudly over his shoulder. "Yo, Golden Goose! Get out here!"

It wasn't just Dick that emerged from the living room. It was the rest of the family as well. They all ventured out with the expectation of seeing Tim dangling from somewhere. The scene before them was far more domestic than they could ever have dreamt.

"Where did you get this?" Dick asked, a large grin spreading across his face.

"I made it", Tim smiled. "I overheard you saying to Jason earlier that you loved the snow, I thought this would be the best way you could still enjoy it".

Dick laughed and wheeled over to his younger brother, dragging him down onto his lap for a hug. "Thank you, Timmy", he breathed as he kissed the top of the younger man's head.

"So what do you say?" Jason smirked, "let's try this bad boy out".

Twenty minutes later, Bruce still stood in the window of the living room, watching the boys run around outside with the eldest of them sat comfortably on the sledge, Damien detained by force next to him while Jason and Tim dragged them along. It was like a scene from a postcard.

They were all his robins, past and present but for now, they were simply brothers.

* * *

**THE END**

**Thank you so much to everyone who has followed this story! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello! I decided to take this story out of retirement! If any of you read "New Years Resolution" I returned it to being a one-shot and think that I will continue this instead :D I love Jason but I definately prefer Mr. Grayson as my main character :P**

* * *

"Geez, do you think Alf could lay off the scented candles in here?" Jason grumbled as he plonked himself down at the breakfast table. "I think I'm going to pass out".

"Go ahead," Dick replied with a grin, "all the more for me then".

"Not a chance", Jason smirked as he reached across the table to gather for himself a plate of goodies, pancakes and bacon galore. It was a crisp December morning and Alfred had cooked for them a feast. Jason and Dick were the first to the table, Bruce and Damien were sleeping in after a long night's patrol and Tim would be up from the cave in a few minutes.

They also had a special guest this morning, a Miss Barbara Gordon, whose ETA would be any moment now. "Babs and Tim better hurry up", the eldest boy commented. "Or there'll be nothing left".

The door creaked open slowly and a tired looking Timothy Drake trudged into the kitchen. He seemed a little taken aback, like Jason, at the wall of essence- cinnamon and apple- which greeted him upon entering the threshold.

"Our Timmy", Dick teased as the youngest of the three took his seat beside the acrobat, "looking as bright and bushy-tailed as usual".

Tim stifled a yawn and smirked as he rested his head in his hands. "Haven't you heard? I'm changing my name to the floppy eared crusader- you should see the giant earmuffs Alfred's added to my costume".

"That's pathetic", the proclaimed "Golden Goose" broke into loud guffaws.

"I haven't slept in 40 hours", Tim shrugged. "I'm allowed".

Dick reached up from the confines of his chair to ruffle the teen's dark hair, which was already resembled a shabbily crafted birds-nest. From across the table, Jason hid his small smile by wolfing down the contents of his plate. He would have licked his plate clean if Alfred hadn't made his way into the kitchen and scolded him.

"The plate stays on the table and at arm's length", Alfred reminded him sternly.

A soft tut followed Alfred into the room and craning his neck to see across the room, Dick caught sight of a head of brilliant red hair.

"Babs!" He exclaimed in delight.

She smiled and wheeled her way towards him, smirking a little at his own chair and leaned in for a hug. It took several attempts to align their chairs just right, to manage an embrace without one chair clashing off the other.

Sweeping a red lock behind her ear, Babs greeted the rest of the family before taking her own share of the spoils.

"So how's life on four wheels been treating you?" She jibed good-naturedly, pouring herself a cup of tea.

"I could do without it", Dick mumbled with a shrug.

Barbara chuckled, "I'm surprised you haven't set up a bunch of ramps around the manor, the skateboarding kind, you mean to tell that thing has kept you from your back-flips?" She stared at him wide-eyed in mock horror.

"Don't tempt him, Miss Gordon", Alfred interjected with a bewildered shake of his head, greatly dismayed at how Dick's eyes lit up with intrigue in that moment.

Shortly after breakfast, Tim was forced to bed and Jason decided to take a walk on the grounds. Barbara travelled down into the Bat-Cave to see Bruce and stayed for another two hours.

When the coast was clear, Dick slowly rose out of his chair. He believed that if he made an effort to walk around for at least a little bit each day, it would aid his recovery, keep his muscles well oiled.

At least he wasn't setting up ramps in the foyer.

He moved around the living room, enjoying the view from his usual height. He reacquainted himself with the pictures atop the marble place, discovering two new framed photos that had not been there before. Both were of Damien. One was obviously Damien's school photo, in which he was obviously trying to bore holes through the photographer's camera and the second was from his Halloween, in which Damien was presumably at the party of one of his few school friends. Dressed, and Dick wasn't entirely sure what to think about this, the Joker.

The longer he stared down at the photograph the more he came to the conclusion that he did not like it. His baby brother's face washed out in white, with red painted lips and green greasy hair disturbed him greatly.

He returned the picture to the mantelpiece face-down and as if it were a dead animal or piece of rotten fruit. Slowly he moved away back towards the other end of the room, about to rediscover the china cabinet when suddenly a deep voice boomed from across the hall.

"Dick!" It was Bruce.

Dick scrambled towards his chair, "Yeah?" He called back.

"Where are you?"

"Living room".

He'd just touched down in the seat of the chair when the living room door swung open. The tall silhouette of his adoptive father stepped into the warm glow of the fire. "I'm going into Gotham, I have to get some of Damien's Christmas presents and I could use a hand...are you ok?"

Dick nodded breathlessly, swallowing the sharp pain coursing through him. "Yeah and I'd love to- be great to get out of the house for a little while".

Bruce still seemed a little suspicious but smiled and informed his oldest that they would be leaving in ten minutes.

The acrobat nodded again and as soon as Bruce was out of sight, slumped in his chair, letting loose a tired sigh. He checked his watch, it wasn't even 1'o clock in the day, how could he possibly be tired?

Nothing like a little Christmas shopping though, he thought with a fond shake of his head, and for Damien no less.

He certainly wasn't an easy kid to buy for and after last year, Alfred had put his foot down. "Ninja stars are not an appropriate gift for Christmas, sirs. This is supposed to be the season of good will, after all".

"But Alfred-"

"I don't care whether or not they are Christmas coloured, Master Grayson", Alfred sighed. "They could be snowflake shaped and would still be unsuitable".

* * *

"Personally, I'd think he'd love this", Dick scooped the giant, fluffy teddy bear into his grip and held it up towards Bruce.

He gestured towards the rather grumpy expression worn by the bear. "The resemblance is uncanny. Think about it, they could sit and brood together all day long".

Bruce raised an eyebrow incredulously but with a smile tugging at his lips he agreed.

This being the Christmas season and one of Gotham's high end department stores, the place was abuzz with life and crowds.

Of course, for the billionaire Bruce Wayne and his injured eldest, the level on which they were browsing for Damien's presents had been pretty much cleared. Usually Dick hated any ceremony that followed him as the son of Bruce Wayne, such as shop assistants milling about like flies and practically kissing the ground they walked upon. But having dreaded the idea of manoeuvring the wheelchair in an overcrowded store, he was very grateful for that little extra breathing space.

In search of other potential presents, Dick wheeled off course from Bruce and was drawn towards the large, decorative circus display in the middle of the floor. It was a giant tent, coloured green and red, typical festive colours. But half of the tent was purposely missing to allow passersby to see inside. Small figurines performed in the ring while other's cheered from the audience. And high above the crowd, suspended from barely visible threads, a fleet of acrobats flying through the air.

Like staring at Damien's Halloween photo earlier, he could not pull himself away from the three acrobats. But unlike before, he was not disturbed or at ill ease. A warmth spread through him, a tugging at his heartstrings that filled him with a sense of joy but also deepest sorrow.

He jumped slightly at a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Bruce standing over him, his eyes flickered from the acrobats and then to his son. His expression softened and giving the young man's shoulder a comforting squeeze he cracked a rare, broad smile.

"You thought the teddy was good but you haven't seen anything yet", he revealed to Dick a baby blue, polka dotted and footed onesie. "I think this is perfect for Christmas Eve".

Dick burst into raucous later. "You will forever be my hero if you get him to wear that".

As they drove home that evening, Dick added to this thought. "Correction, you will forever be my hero if you get him to wear that on patrol".

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**Hope you enjoyed :D Feedback appreciated! **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: :) **

* * *

Bruce was enjoying the quiet life for once, sitting with his feet up by the fire, the nearest thing to a quarrel being Damian's sharp remarks over his game of Cluedo, which was going rather pear shaped.

"This is a ridiculous game, it's as simple as that", he huffed.

"If it was so simple", Dick reminded him smugly, "you'd be winning."

Bruce smirked and tuned out of their banter, he focused instead on the hum of Frank Sinatra which filtered in from the kitchen. This and making them watch the Queens speech on Christmas Day, were Yuletide rituals to the elder of the house.

"She's not even our Queen", a much younger Richard Grayson protested one year. "We don't even have a monarchy!"

It didn't matter because Alfred didn't ask for much, apart from basic civility and order of course, and Bruce owed him the world.

Bruce could only savour this fleeting occurrence of serenity for a short while longer. He had a Christmas Party to attend to at Wayne Enterprises.

"Are you sure you can manage the house on your own later?" Bruce pressed again for the tenth time that day.

Dick looked up from the game to nod confidently, "course I can, let Alfred enjoy his one night off duty".

If it was as easy as this game of Cluedo, then the evening would go without a hitch.

Little did he know it wouldn't be easy in the slightest.

* * *

The game had changed. It was chess with Tim, Damien having already gone to bed half an hour before.

If Dick had any sense of false confidence over his earlier victory, then Tim him had crushed his hopes in seconds. Dick didn't like to think of it however as his own short falls but the fact Tim was inherently a genius.

"Say goodbye to your bishop", smirked the acrobat as he reached over the board to knock over the marble figurine.

Tim chuckled, "that...that's a knight".

"Well", Dick replied, "say goodbye to him too".

With an amused roll of his blue eyes, Tim stood and moved towards the kitchen to make more popcorn. "Don't move any of the pieces", he called over his shoulder, "I will notice".

"I wouldn't dream of it", Dick answered him, overtly sweet as he tried to edge some of the pieces slyly around the board. It didn't work, of course. As soon as Tim sat down again he returned them to their original place.

"You know", his older brother mused. "I've always been convinced that you have photographic memory".

"I wish", laughed the younger.

Despite their back and forth, Tim had been unusually quiet all evening, in general he had been distant of late. And as he studied the board decisively for a few short moments, his eldest brother took the opportunity to express his concerns.

"Tim", he began gently, "you've been kind of off lately, why is that?"

The seventeen year olds head snapped up. Tim looked ready to protest but a stern look from the acrobat put him in his place. "I'm fine", he assured him hurriedly. "I just..." He trailed off with a shrug as if this was a perfectly reasonable answer.

"You just what?"

Tim sighed. "Actually, it's Steph-"

A sudden crashing from the foyer made them both jump. In an instant Tim was on his feet and made his way towards the door, he found Jason on the other side, loitering in the hallway drunkenly.

"What are you doing?" Tim's voice wavered between exasperation and amusement.

Dick listened to a long silence, eventually dispelled by a single hiccup from Jason.

Seconds later the black and white haired rebel stormed into the room, knocking over several ornaments on the way.

"How drunk are you?" Dick raised an eyebrow.

"Why would you think that?"Jason slurred, swaying on his feet slightly. Tim reached over to steady him but Jason pushed him back firmly. "Don't worry baby bird, it's all good".

He continued to saunter tipsily around the room, stumbling upon the mantelpiece and it's assortment of photographs. He began to filter through them, throwing any ones he didn't like, which was the majority, over his shoulder.

"Jason!" Dick growled as he heard several frames smash in sequence.

"Oh chill out Golden Goose", he laughed loudly, his head tilting to the side curiously when he spotted the same picture of Damien Dick had found, of him as the Joker.

"This is messed up..." He murmured, a strange emotion stirring within him. "Bruce let him go out like that?"

Tim shrugged, "I don't know, I told him he should dress up like a villain but I thought he'd go for Scarecrow or something..."

Jason turned like a viper on Tim, his eyes narrowing. "You told him to dress up like this?"

Tim frowned, "no, I just said a villain...I didn't think he'd-"

"You think this is funny?" Jason bellowed, holding up the frame towards him.

Tim was completely taken aback. "What? No..."

What Tim hadn't really thought much of and what had disturbed the Golden Boy was really the stuff of Jason's nightmares. If he had a dollar for every nightmare haunted by that clown faced sadist, then he'd had even of a fortune to rival Bruce.

In his drunken state he tossed the picture forcefully in the direction of Tim, the Red Robin moved easily out of the way, looking only a little more shocked than before. "Jason", he exclaimed. "I didn't..."

Before he could finish, he found himself falling into the embrace of the couch. The cushions against his back were soft, but the pummelling of Jason's fists against his face certainly was not. In his struggle to get away and wrestle his older brother off him, they both sent the sofa tumbling backwards.

"Jason!" Dick shouted, rising slowly to his feet. "Jason! Get off him!"

All Jason saw was red, and even more red as blood splattered across the face of the Replacement.

"Jason, leave him alone!"

Tim's head lolled loosely, his eyes rolling back limply in his head. It was as the rest of his body began to go weak and his grip on Jason's shoulders fell that the Red Hood jumped back from the bludgeoned teen's form.

"Tim!" Dick knelt down next to his brother, shaking his shoulder gently. "Tim! You okay?"

Tim managed to nod mutedly after a moment and rolled away from his oldest brother, pushing him and his mother-henning away as he dragged himself to his feet. He put his jacket sleeve to his face to catch the stream of blood from his nose.

Almost as drunkenly as Jason before, he stumbled out of the room, slamming the door behind him with as much force as he could muster.

Dick stared dumbfounded at the door, then to Jason who stood rooted to the spot, seemingly in shock.

Sighing he moved towards the couch and bent over to lift it back up again. He attempted it first on his own but a sharp pain shooting up through his side stopped him in his tracks. He glanced up towards Jason who still remained in place. Finally, his patience snapped.

"Are you gonna just stand there? Or are you going to help me!"

His shouting snapped Jason out of his reverie, he jumped forward as if electrocuted and aided his brother in turning the sofa back the other way around. Once done, the eldest of the brothers slumped back into his chair and started manoeuvring towards the doorway, he pointed back towards the scattered picture frames and broken glass agitatedly. "And for Gods sake, clean that up!"

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Meanwhile, Tim supported himself against the stair banister, keeping his eyes firmly closed to stop the foyer spinning violently. His nose throbbed, he could practically feel his face swelling by the second. He pleaded for numbness to wash over him and rid him of the aching.

"Drake?" A young voice called from above him.

Reluctantly, with his eyes still closed, he replied. "Yeah, Damien?"

"I heard Grayson shouting, what's going on?"

Tim opened his eyes to face Damien and in an instant, the young boys question had been answered. A small smirk crossed his face, "another fight with Todd, then?"

Tim scowled, a sharp comment on his tongue but suddenly didn't see the point in arguing with the youngest of the Wayne boys. "See you later, Damien", he said with a half hearted wave before collecting the keys to his motorbike and heading out the door.

He was halfway down the steps when he heard his eldest brother calling for him over his shoulder. "Tim, wait up, please..."

Tim stopped and back tracked a few steps, frowning at how Dick had stopped his chair precariously close to the ledge. "Get back inside", he warned him, pointing from the chair to the steps. "I see this ending badly".

"Come on", Dick sighed, gesturing back towards the house, "we have to get you patched up".

The younger didn't budge.

"Please Tim", Dick broke out the puppy-dog eyes in all their glory.

"I'm fine!" Snapped the younger.

"Please...?"

"I'm fine" apparently meant a broken nose and cracked cheekbone. Tim sat on one of the breakfast counter stools while his brother filled him an icepack and Jason stood loitering in the doorway, had had not said a word since Dick had dragged his younger brother back inside.

Whenever Tim met his eye, he would look away quickly which was odd because he expected to see the same challenging, distained filled glare he usually got from his predecessor.

He stayed for a few minutes longer but was set upon travelling back to his apartment for the night, no matter how much Dick protested otherwise. "No, you're probably concussed- I can't let you drive like that."

"Well you still can't drive", Tim shrugged. "I'll manage".

He parted with his older brother a small smile before heading for the door.

"Hey, hey wait-" Dick stopped him. "You said there was a problem with Steph earlier...you never got a chance to say".

"I wouldn't call it a problem..." Tim's brow furrowed and he swallowed hard, he opened his mouth to speak but his jaw snapped closed as Jason emerged into the hallway as well.

He looked towards the door and then back to his brothers. On second thought, what was the point? Jason was going to find out anyway in the end.

He met his older brother dead in the eye.

"Steph is pregnant".

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**:) Reviews much appreciated, hope you enjoyed and tune in next time ;) dun...dun...dun...**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and a special thanks to gege qurban who questioned whether or not Tim's dad was alive. Originally I thought not, that Tim just being introverted and independent chose to live outside of the manor but suddenly I thought, that would be interesting...So now Tim's Dad is alive, so I suppose in that way it's just the slightest bit AU.**

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"Stephanie is what?"

"Pregnant", replied Tim dryly.

"Honestly", Jason sniggered, "can that girl keep her legs clos-"

"Shut up, Jason", snapped the younger, meanwhile Dick remained in a state of shock between them.

"Pregnant", he began slowly, "with a baby?"

Despite himself and his affection for his older brother, Tim scowled and parted with the acrobat a look that read-"well, obviously".

"No", Jason chortled, "no, Dick. Haven't you heard? They're expecting pups..."

The eldest of the brothers ignored him, looking directly upon Tim. "Yours?"

Tim raised an eyebrow, "who else?"

Dick leaned back into his hair, running a hand through his thick, black hair. He looked up from furrowed brows towards his younger brother. "Have you told Bruce?"

Tim shook his head, "of course I haven't. Do you think everything would have gone down so quietly if I did? That you'd only be hearing about this now?"

"So we're the first people you've told?"

Tim frowned. "No, I told my Dad."

For some reason it irritated him slightly that he had to remind them he did have his own, separate father. Whose approval he respected naturally a little more than Bruce's, of course he thought of Bruce as mentor, a second father of sorts but he knew that no matter how he approached the subject with Bruce, the outcome would always remain the same. The man would go ballistic, voice his utter disappointment in his protégé and then probably refuse to speak to him for quite some time.

It was his father, Jack Drake, who had been initially shocked upon hearing the news but had eventually smiled and told him it was going to be okay. It was Jack Drake who would be helping him cope day in and day out with being a newfound parent, all the while Bruce worked his way out of his huff.

Silence hung between them and clearing his throat, Tim went to move. "Seriously, I have to go now".

"Wait!" The eldest chided him. "You can't go yet, you have to talk to Bruce".

"I can't right now", Tim sighed and then added more resolutely. "And furthermore, I won't. Things are stressful enough right now with him having one of his fits".

"You can't leave him in the dark over this stuff", insisted Dick. "That's the mistake I made. I know he'll act like a child and throw a tantrum but the longer you wait, the more insulted he'll be when you do tell him-"

Something changed within Tim in an instant. "Insult him?"

"You know", he continued. "That's what the problem is. Bruce will take Steph's pregnancy as an insult against him and really- how will it affect him? He won't have to see the kid if he doesn't want to-"

"Tim-" Interjected his eldest brother amiably, attempting to diffuse the tension.

"Tell me I'm wrong", he deadpanned in response.

Dick couldn't, Jason however was quick to throw his opinion in. "Look at you, Replacement", he whistled teasingly. "Rebelling against Daddybats- I'd say I was proud but then again it is you, we won't push it".

"I'm not telling Bruce yet", Tim insisted and made his way towards the door, no one tried to stop him this time and he was gone.

"Crazy, huh?" Dick murmured, mainly to himself.

"I didn't think he had it in him", Jason replied, receiving an elbow to the rib for his comment.

Dick turned to him seriously, "you have to promise me you won't tell Bruce to mess with Tim. That would be just cruel. This is his business. We have to leave him to it".

Jason shrugged, which Dick as confirmation. "Good".

A small voice piped up from above them however. "I don't know, I believe father should know".

The two men's heads snapped up sharply, to find Damian sitting upon the banister which overlooked the foyer, a smug smirk plastered to his face, "even if it would be just to watch Drake squirm".

"You won't say a word", hissed the boy's former mentor. "You have to promise me that too!"

"What's in it for me though?" Replied the latest incarnation of Robin, "why shouldn't I tell father what the so-called genius has been up to lately?"

"Not much of a genius if he can't-" Jason started to mutter callously however Dick spoke over him to answer Damian.

"Because, if you do, I'll make you regret it."

Damian arched an unimpressed, and very unafraid, eyebrow. "And that means?"

"And that means while you might enjoy watching Timmy "squirm"", he explained sternly. "You'd have the combined annoyance of Alfred and I to deal with after. Now I understand if you aren't afraid of me, but Alfred? You'd never eat again".

Damian's eyes narrowed but mumbling glumly in submission he stalked away, back towards his bedroom with a slam of the door.

"When do you think he _will _break the news?" Jason asked abruptly from behind him after a moment. Dick turned back to him and offered him a gesture of exasperation. "I don't know, some time when Bruce is halfway around the world and Steph looks like she's carrying a basketball under her jumper".

Jason chuckled and sauntered off back towards the living room where Dick could hear him sweeping up the glass shards from before.

Dick took the time to himself to digest what Tim had told him. He couldn't imagine Tim, his little brother Timmy, as a father. Not that he couldn't handle the responsibility, no, Tim was the Mr. Responsible of them all, which was exactly why he couldn't have predicted something like this happening.

He vowed there and then however, that he would support his little brother no matter what.

And in return of course they would have to name the baby after him, or at least let him choose.

He was pulled from his reverie by the sound of a car outside, footsteps followed and then two shilouettes appeared in the manor doorway, Bruce and Alfred of course. Both seemed a little taken aback to find the eldest sitting alone at the foot of the stairs.

"Dick?" Bruce moved forward to kneel before him, "are you alright?"

Concern swam in his weary eyes and Dick merely responded, equally as exhausted. "I think I just need a holiday".

A smile quirked at the corner of Bruce's mouth, "I'll take you up on that- just get yourself out of that chair first".

Patting his eldest son fondly on the shoulder, Bruce proceeded upstairs. By the time he returned, said son was asleep in the living room and Jason was sulking in the kitchen.

Bruce was surprised to see him, "Jason? I didn't know you'd be here".

"S'what's it to you?" Slurred the younger man in response.

Bruce sighed. "Do you have to fight me on everything?"

Jason simply hunched over further and turned away from his ex-mentor.

"And not even a happy drunk", Bruce shook his head.

Jason replied in the form of a disgruntled huffing noise and Bruce realised he was trying to pick his way through a first aid kit- little did he know the same one used on Tim only half an hour before.

Jason's hands were raw at the knuckle, his hands and fingers dotted with tiny pricks of blood. At the present he was wrapping his hands almost in the style of a boxer and having a rather difficult time of it.

"So it was a rough night then", Bruce concluded and Jason would not tell him otherwise.

"Who was it then? Who did you pick a fight with?" He suspected it was just some other bar goer who Jason had accused of looking at him funny, or vice versa. Again, Jason was quite content for him to be limited to this knowledge. He was sure Dick would fill him on what really happened tomorrow and he would be lectured then.

"You're the most accident prone person I think I've ever come across", Bruce mumbled to himself and sat down opposite his rebel son. He offered to wrap his other hand for him, it being nearly impossible for Jason to do so himself. Of course Jason refused, recoiling away from Bruce's touch moodily.

"Well you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" He grumbled bitterly and giving up on his bandaging his hand, stood up abruptly and exited the kitchen, knocking the chair over behind him in frustration.

Bruce watched him go forlornly, running a hand through his hair with a defeated sigh. He could do nothing right in the eyes of the Red Hood.

And that seemed unlikely to ever change.

Alfred's silent figure entering the kitchen caused him to start slightly. He tried to pass off a smile to the elderly butler but there was little fooling the man- he'd always been gifted with seeing straight through Bruce's facade.

"What is it, Master Wayne?"

"Jason". And the name said enough.

"I just don't know what to do with him, Alfred", he continued drearily. "He's impossible, doesn't want to talk, he doesn't want to be in the same room as the rest of us and yet he complains exclude him. I just... I just don't know what he wants..."

"I think it's safe to say that Master Jason doesn't even know what he wants", Alfred interjected wisely.

"How do you deal with him, Alfred? He listens to you".

Alfred chuckled, "Purely because I don't give him much of a choice".

Bruce shook his head with a slight smile. "All the men of the Wayne household dare to go up against the most insane of criminals this can throw at us- but hell hath no fury like an Alfred Pennyworth scorned".

"Then you should be very grateful I use my abilities for good", the Butler smiled further before bidding the Batman goodnight.

Bruce waited around for several more minutes before moving into the living room where he found his eldest still sprawled across the couch. Acquiring of a pillow and blanket, he placed the pillow beneath his sons head and draped the blanket carefully over him.

He could not help but marvel at the virtues of the acrobats personalities. He had done wrongs to him in the past. He'd forced the weight of his burdens on the shoulder of the younger man. He had not always supplied him with the fatherly support he needed. But Dick had always forgiven him, never passing up the chance to flash a smile or share in witticisms with his adoptive father. He was so different from Jason, who refused to talk. Or even Tim, who at times seemed untrusting of the man.

But not Richard Grayson, the born performer who used the streets of Gotham as his stage. Who played so many roles in the lives of others, son, brother, ally... all of which he loved and lived for.

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**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please, please rate and review! :D**

**Some people have reviewed questioning about the teenage pregnancy, Tim being the father etc. Fear not- all I have to say is...**

**1. Everything is not as it seems **

**2. All will be revealed shortly **

**;)**


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